


Prefer to Drown

by Tseecka



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and sad, Blood Magic, Drabble, Multi, meme response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 02:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1801771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tseecka/pseuds/Tseecka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ambush, an attack--a decision. Anders is faced with a choice he never thought he would have so much difficulty making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prefer to Drown

**Author's Note:**

> In response to a Tumblr drabble meme: Write about your character losing a loved one in battle."

Harsh cries rent the air, the freshly metallic scent of spilled blood assaulting him, setting his pulse to pounding in his head with associations of fear, of agony, of death. Everything in his vision was tinted red; the dusty street, the glinting edges of blades, Garrett’s face, even the familiar blue-white explosion of lyrium flickering out slowly. Somehow, that last was worst—somewhere in his mind, a fanciful notion had taken hold, that Fenris didn’t bleed red like the rest of them. 

Foolish. His blood mingled with Garrett’s, with the scant spilled drops of the marauders that had caught all three of them off guard, life’s essences indistinguishable from one another.  It was pure luck that Anders hadn’t been caught in the ambush; his skin was unmarred but for the few stains that had found their way to him, sprayed violently through the air. 

The knife had been in his hand before he’d even formed the conscious thought, impulses warring in his mind, Justice raging in the background at the cowardice of fools. He wanted to destroy them all; he had to save his partners; he didn’t have the strength to do it all. The knife flashed, slicing through his arm, drenching his own coat with blood

                                       _I would drown all three of us in blood if it meant keeping you safe_  


                           and the words were there, the power was there, enough to lay them all to ruin and raise the Champion and their elf once more, unhurt, unharmed. And yet—and yet he hesitated. Across the square, two broken bodies pulled their way to each other, trembling hands reaching out, and two pairs of eyes turned in pain to meet his own gaze. There was horror in those faces, pleading beneath the masks of blood, and his own gushed from his arm as he stared back at them and did nothing. 

His face was wet, and he did not think it was from blood. 

In anguish, he turned from the two of them, his uninjured arm flashing to the side and unleashing a spell that would decimate what was left of their attackers. Screams echoed from the tan brick walls until they were drowned out by the rushing whoosh of flames; and then there was only silence. 

Drained and weak and sorrowful, Anders dropped to his knees, passing a weary hand over his arm to close the wound. His eyes were locked on those across the square; he saw acceptance, gratefulness in their gazes, before they slipped closed and their faces slackened. One after the other, until he was left alone—body and integrity intact, and heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

                   ”I’m sorry,”

                                                     he wept, 

                                                                                    “Maker, I’m so sorry.”


End file.
